


Five Days To Fall In Love

by Sleepy_prince48



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Sadly he’s terrified of love, Sandy being overly supportive and Pitch hating it, Sandy tries to help but briefly makes it worse, coffee shop au!, pitch is the owner of a fine establishment!, poor pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_prince48/pseuds/Sleepy_prince48
Summary: Three days where Pitch stews in denial, one where he realises and another where he accepts.





	Five Days To Fall In Love

Day One:

Fingers tapping against the counter, Pitch watches a customer walk into the store, phone in hand- not dissimilar to any other but a disappointment nonetheless- The male looks up from his phone, noting Pitch’s questioning eyes. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he tries to brush his fuchsia hair out of his face, but that ends in failure, as per usual.

He sighs but wanders up to the counter anyway, showing Pitch his phone. Pitch notes that his hands are tiny, much like the rest of him.

The phone reads “Hey! Sorry, I happen to be mute! Could I get an Arabica medium roast black coffee, please?”

Proper grammar, sweet manners, knowledge of coffee and order that definitely doesn’t suit him.

l

“Of course,” Pitch replies with practised ease, going about his way to make the coffee. He grinds the beans and boils the water but that’s all. No milk, no cream, no sugar.

Big fuchsia eyes watch the process, full of curiosity and wonder. He takes a seat on the counter, which Pitch silently thanks him for- today is Sunday, most people stay indoors so it happens to be a slow, dull day.

He places the cup in front of the man who had taken to doodling on a napkin. He quickly writes ‘thanks!’ And turns it over so Pitch can see.

“You’re welcome.” He wipes his hands on his apron, going back to drying cups behind the counter, it was always only him here, for this was his shop and he had no intention of hiring employees. He didn’t mind having to do everything but sometimes it got tiring. Luckily, an influx of strange and wonderful customers made his days much better.

In the corner of his eye, he watches the man stare at the dark liquid, bringing it to soft lips- really, Pitch shouldn’t have noticed that detail- take a sip only to cringe at the bitter taste. Pitch knew it didn’t suit him.

He doesn’t finish the coffee, obviously not to his taste, but leaves a generous tip and the napkin full of doodles, one of which was a doodle of the man himself saying ‘Hi! I’m Adam!” To a much taller man who was cleaning cups. The doodle wasn’t finished but Pitch guessed the tall man was him- the black button up was a dead giveaway.

He wondered how he hadn’t noticed the boy taking in the details of his outfit but was flattered nonetheless.

With a barely hidden smile, he tucks the napkin into his apron pocket and takes the cup to rinse and dry.

Day Two:

Fuchsia hair catches Pitch’s eye before the door even begins to open. It’s an early Monday morning and the man is dressed much more formally then he was on Sunday, a pretty dark purple and obviously tailored suit adorning his small form.

The man types a similar message as last time, except without the ‘sorry, I happen to be mute!” Part, presumably because it’s not their first meeting. Pitch repeats his signature ‘Of course’ then begins brewing the coffee, observing that the man watches with the same interest as yesterday, even sitting in a similar place as yesterday.

Part of Pitch wants to add a little bit of milk, or at least some sugar because ‘black’ obviously wasn’t to the man’s taste but he might drink black because he’s lactose intolerant or allergic to sugar so gives him the same black coffee.

The morning crowd slows to a trickle of customers so Pitch takes the time to wander over to the male. Noticing his approach, he looks up and grins with a small wave, Pitch returns it- just as small.

“So, your name’s Adam?” He grins and nods, Pitch notes that he’s doodled all over his napkin again- and well, there he is again, the doodle is ten times more flattering than any picture.

“I’m Pitch.” He tells Adam. Adam simply grins, mouthing ‘Pitch’. Taking a last sip of the coffee, he does his best not to cringe but Pitch easily noticed the furrowed eyebrows in a face that was simply too soft to hold actual anger. He writes on the napkin that he must go for work and leaves a generous tip, even more so than last time, and the napkin. Pitch slides the napkin into his pocket once more.

Monday’s are always busy, Pitch takes care of a morning crowd, an afternoon crowd and an evening crowd plus the trickle of customers in between. By the time the evening crowd begins to stampede into his cosy little shop, Pitch can barely hold back a sigh, even his more interesting customers- like the lady who brings her cat with her even though she’s obviously allergic- are making this day a chore.

Seemingly everyone wants coffee on Monday.

His exhaustion seems to get worse when he closes up shop, he has to walk further from his apartment to do some shopping, mainly pick up a fresh shipment of coffee beans and some food for the week ahead. It feels so sudden when he notices bright fuchsia rustling about in a Suit shop. He turns to look and notes that it’s definitely Adam- no wonder he gave such generous tips, he must be loaded from working at an expensive suit tailors.

Adam looks up, navy suit draped over his arms, he grins and waves at Pitch through the window. Pitch smiles and waves back, feeling like his day just got much better.

Day Three:

Adam glowers at the suit in his hands as he walks into the shop. His little hands are covered in plasters but the suit looks even better than it did the night before. He has bags under his eyes and yawns silently as he shows Pitch his phone.

Same order as yesterday. Maybe he just needed something to really wake him up. Pitch silently brews it for him. Adam seems to get the shock of a lifetime when the coffee cup clinks against the table in front of him, almost jumping out of his skin.

Pitch apologises. Something he rarely did for anyone and mentally smacks himself for it. Sure, Adam was sweet but that didn’t explain Pitch’s unusual behaviour.

He doesn’t doodle on the napkin today. He tried but winced when picking up his pen.

Adam stays until the morning crowd disperses, having drunk about half of his Coffee, a little less than usual.

Pitch finds his mood has dulled from seeing the man so exhausted.

Adam joins the afternoon crowd that day, looking even more tired and in a bit of a huff. One of his plasters had fallen off, showing of a cut right through the top of his knuckle- Pitch cringed at that, he kept a medical kit in the back, he’ll ask if he can take a look at his hands. He didn’t have the navy suit but instead, angry little eyebrows that didn’t suit his soft face in the slightest.

Pitch was just about to put the milk to one side when Adam shows him a different order.

“Hello, could I get an Arabica medium roast coffee with as much milk, sugar and cream as humanly possible, please?”

Now that order seems to suit Adam a lot more.

“Of course,” Pitch replies with a smile. He decides that he may just start calling this obviously preferred blend a ‘white coffee’, for it was the exact opposite of a black coffee but held true to its name.

When he places the cup in front of Adam, the man smiles in thanks but it seems horribly forced. He’s typing out rapidly on a phone too big for his hands. Which was unusual in itself because Adam never had his phone out at the counter- other than to tell Pitch what he wanted. Then there was the factor of the beyond frustrated look on his face.

Pitch slid over a sponge cake to go with his coffee.

Adam looks up questioningly. “On the house.” The smile that lights up his face were truly enough for Pitch to keep going the rest of his week. Adam places the phone, face down, on the counter, watching it vibrate madly for a second before picking up the fork to take a bite out the cake.

If he weren’t mute, Pitch guessed he would have squealed with joy from his expression.

“I don’t mean to pry, but are you alright?” Pitch runs his cloth down the counter. The afternoon crowd had begun to disperse so now was the perfect time to wipe down the tables.

Delicate fingers brush fuchsia locks from his eyes as Adam begins to nod, only to stop and shake his head.

“What’s wrong?” Pitch continued before he could stop himself, then waved his hand, “Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”

Adam’s fingers slid across the counter to his phone but stopped when it vibrated once more. He sighed but it came out soundless- briefly, Pitch wonders if his muteness is a physical condition or a mental one.

Without a word, Pitch takes out his own phone and pulls up the notes app. He slides the phone to Adam and has to stop himself from chuckling at how much smaller his hands look.

Adam sends a grateful smile his way and begins typing. Truthfully, Pitch would never give his phone to anyone- maybe his late wife or daughter- and had absolutely no clue why sliding it over to Adam seemed like a good idea.

He decides not to dwell on it as Adam slides the phone back. “The suit that I’ve tailored a million times over has just been rejected by the man it was made for once more. Now he says he wants a different colour despite seemingly having his heart set on navy blue. It’s infuriating, to say the least.” 

Pitch nods in agreement, “I can see why,” he keeps his phone on the counter in case Adam wants to say something as Pitch goes around empty tables, cleaning up. Luckily most people know that Pitch works alone so don’t really make a mess. Only first-timers made messes, leaving crumbs and cupcake wrappers everywhere unless they were brought along by regulars.

He almost smiles when he spots Adam typing again, already loving his eloquent way of writing. Adam yawns,p before downing the rest of his coffee. Pitch is pleased to say it’s the first time he finished off a drink in his cafe.

Glancing over, he notices the man eyeing the boards above the counter until he spots something and takes out his wallet. He places some money at the counter- obviously too much for cake and coffee- finishes off his cake and hops off his chair.

With a smile and wave- that Pitch gladly returns- he takes his leave.

There’s enough time between the lunch crowd and evening crowd for Pitch to check what Adam had written in his notes.

A phone number along with the words “Please text me later!”.

An hour after Pitch closes up shop, he does exactly that.

“Hey, it’s Pitch, how’s work treating you?”

He spends way too long pondering over that simple message but eventually decides it can’t get any better so sends it. It took a few minutes but he got Adam’s response.

“Hi Pitch! Not so good, that man picked out the most garish colour an I just know he’ll change his mind! Despite that, I’m still working on it.”

At that moment, Pitch realises he forgot to ask if he could check Adam’s hands. He shoots a glare at the nearest mirror, frowning at himself.

“That’s no good,” he types then adds, “By the way, how are your hands?”

It’s another moment before Adam responds, “I patched them up! But now I’ve gone and stabbed them again :( .”

Pitch almost laughs at the little frowny face but the thought of Adam being hurt stops him from doing so. “Don’t you have thimbles?”  
“Of course! Lots! But they make it hard to sew so I don’t use them.”  
“I suppose they might,” Pitch mused, “Why not something a bit smaller?”  
“When you’ve got hands as small as mine, everything’s a nuisance.” 

Adam’s replies had begun to come in quickly, but now Pitch wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t want to put himself in a bad light to Adam- usually he wouldn’t mind having a bad reputation but something about Adam made Pitch want to keep his image of Pitch pristine.

Apparently Pitch didn’t need to think so hard about what to say as Adam sent another message.

“How was the rest of your day? :3”

Pitch smiled at the little face, “Good, thanks for asking.” Pitch frowned at himself for saying thanks- fairly unusual of him. Pitch sighs and tells Adam he was going to sleep, to which Adam responded with “Goodnight! Sweet dreams! <3”

Pitch snorts at the heart and without thinking, he sent one back. The very moment he hits send, he realised what he did, turns off his phone and goes to bed.

Day Four:

When Pitch wakes up, he checks his phone, barely remembering the heart he sent to Adam. He turns off the phone, sighing and runs a hand through his hair. Perhaps he should message Sanderson to question him about the feelings that attacked his heart whenever Adam was near. Why he wanted to protect him at all costs, why he wanted to take care of him, why he made him feel so warm and happy.

He decides to do exactly that. Sanderson, much like Adam, was mute, however, Pitch was sure that Sanderson was selectively mute, unlike Adam who seemed to be annoyed that he couldn’t say anything outright. He frowns at the fact that Adam plagues his mind even when thinking of Sandy.

Thankfully, Sandy messaged back immediately saying he had a free day and would gladly join him after the morning crowd had dispersed- When Adam was gone.

With that, Pitch begins his daily routine, washing, shaving and brushing his teeth. He makes a slice of toast, spreads some Nutella on it and takes it with him on his way to his shop.

Adam arrives with the morning crowd, waving tiredly at Pitch as he got to work on his order- the sweet and sugary one- without being shown the phone. He notices- sadly- that Adam’s fingers are shaking and his somewhat tan complexion had drained out of him. Pitch slides over a croissant along with his coffee.

Adam looks up at him blearily.

“On the house.” Pitch smiles, even though he knows Adam’s tip will be at least quadruple the cost of both the coffee and croissant. Adam smiles back at him, strained and tired.

When he disappears with the crowd, he leaves that ever generous tip but, again, no doodles.

Eventually Sanderson wonders in, easily noticeable with his silly baseball cap and bright yellow jumper. The tap of fingers against Pitch’s counter stops, the aforementioned man straightens up and wipes his hands against his apron. He doesn’t greet Sandy with a smile and wave like he does Adam, seeing no reason to do so- truthfully, he wasn’t sure what reason he had to wave and smile at Adam.

Sandy takes the seat next to Adam’s seat- Pitch isn’t sure when he started calling it that but there it is.

Sandy signs to him, “S’up?”  
Pitch scoffs at that, wondering why he’d rather the three signs of ‘S’up’ than the two signs of ‘What’s up”. The mediocre humour carries on until Pitch realises he doesn’t know what to say and if very thankful for the distraction of a customer coming in.

What would Pitch say?

“There’s this boy”? That makes him sound like a teenage girl from a cliche romance novella. Pitch will have the reader know that he’s a full grown man with a long history behind him.

“How do you know you’re in love”? That sounded a million times better, much more subtle but still getting the point across, it makes him sound more like the grown adult he is too.

Sandy gets his attention by tapping the counter. “What‘cha brooding over?”  
Pitch once again scoffs at the use of signs that could have been simplified.

Dragging a hand over his face, Pitch sighs. Looking Sandy dead in the eyes he asks, “How does one know if they're in love?”  
Suddenly, Sandy can’t hold back laughter and leaves Pitch standing like a deer in the headlights, rigid and frozen.

Pitch finds it in him to let his face crease into a scowl. Sandy does his best to curb the laughter into giggles, waving his hand at him almost apologetically. Sighing, Pitch waits for Sandy’s laughter to completely stop by cleaning plates.

Slowly, the humour evaporates and is replaced by layers of seriousness.

“So, love?” Sandy signs. Pitch sighs and nods.  
“Well, I guess one sign would be ‘butterflies in your stomach’.” Pitch almost feels sick- his stomach always did flips around Adam- he nods gravely. “Feeling drawn to them or wanting to keep them safe. Feeling more affectionate than usual could also be a sign.”

And truly, Pitch felt sick to the core, he couldn’t be in love with Adam! Not after his wife! But his resolve was shattered with each symptom Sanderson listed, he felt nauseous, barely able to stand. He puts a hand on his counter but it does little to keep the world from caving in on him.

He feels like he’s drowning. It’s so hard to get air. He swallows around the lump in his throat, feeling like he can’t breathe. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and he wonders where it came from when he’s so cold.

He’s not in love, he desperately repeats to himself. So desperate to prove Sandy wrong, to prove himself wrong.

But... he couldn’t.

Sandy’s hand on his has him taking in large gulps of air, finally realising how fast his heart was beating and how tight his lungs felt. The icy hands he’d felt finally relinquishing their vice grip on his lungs.

He sighs in disappointment with himself. It comes out like a wheeze.

He closes shop early that day and Sandy walks him to his high-rise apartment, just the complex, not the room. Pitch is rattled and doesn’t want Sandy to go near his abode.

Sandy understands and waves a goodbye that isn’t returned.

Pitch sleeps in his jeans and dress shirt with the covers off.

Day Five:

Hand ruffling his hair, Pitch wakes up at the usual time he does, if a few minutes later but he has a reliable body clock and trusts it. Checking his phone, he spots five texts from Adam and two from Sandy.

He replies to Sanderson first.

“Don’t forget to eat!” The first text reads, then a few minutes later, “You must be famished after that!”  
“I forgot.” He replies simply and leaves it at that.

He goes through his whole daily routine, clothes from yesterday feeling like a second skin before he actually checks Adam’s texts. Even then, some apprehension trails down his spine.

One around lunch after Pitch closed for the day, “Hey, I noticed the cafe was closed! Are you okay?” The second text was sent a few minutes later, “Pitch??” 

The third must of been around the time Adam closed the suit shop- about an hour and a half after Pitch closes the cafe. “Remember to eat!” He snorts at that, noting Sandy and he’s worried natures.

And later on, “I hope you’re feeling well! :L” along with “Turns out that dude liked the suit with the garish colour?! Blargh! Well, whatever, I got tipped for dealing with his bull! :3”

He’s not exactly sure how to respond so leaves it like that, deciding to answer when he sees Adam in person.

Pitch decides he can run the cafe adequately today, despite the exhaustion plaguing him. He’d really like to see Adam, to tell him something, something he’d managed to keep a secret from himself as much as Adam (But definitely not Sandy).

Speaking of Sandy, he notices the man hanging outside his cafe before he’d gotten close thanks to Sandy’s brightly coloured fashion sense. Sanderson notices him and waves, not being disappointed when he doesn’t get one back.

Pitch slips inside, followed by Sandy and cleans up the mess from yesterday that he was far too tired to fix. Sandy- shockingly enough- proves himself helpful in this situation.

He pretends to wipe down the sides as Sandy sits next to Adam’s seat but really, Pitch was just brooding about what to say again.

“Hey, Adam! It’s only been five days since we met but I think I’m in love with you! Date me?” Isn’t that how the accursed Romeo started his relationship with Juliet? And then they both died?

He sighs and watches the crowd trickle in, some regulars ask if he’s alright and Pitch reassured them that he is. Eventually, Adam finds his way into the shop, looking panicked and dishevelled. He gives Pitch a once over, Pitch smiles almost awkwardly- knowing Sandy is watching them both with curious interest.

Adam types something as quickly as his little hands will move and hands the note to Pitch, “Please return my texts! I was worried sick!”  
“I know, I’m sorry,” he doesn’t fail to notice Sandy’s eyebrows raise at his apology, “I was stricken with sudden nausea so I went early and fell right asleep.”

Adam pouts at him as Pitch returns his phone. He sulks over to his usual seat, head in hands and a sullen look on his face.

Pitch scowls at the thumbs up and wriggling eyebrows he gets from Sandy as he begins to make Adam’s drink.

Now, he’s not the best at latte art and technically, this isn’t a latte, but it’s not hard to ice some melted white chocolate onto the cream on top of Adam’s coffee. He smiles down at his work and places it in front of Adam.

Adam eyes it curiously. His lips spread into a broad smile at the icing.

“Go on a date with me? <3”

He takes out his phone barely looking at the screen, instead staring at the coffee, poking the cream, making sure it was real.

Pitch’s phone vibrates, the text reads.

“ Adam  
09:38  
Yes, PleASE!! <3 “

**Author's Note:**

> Psst! If you spot spelling errors, or note some confusing wording, please hit me up! I’ll sort it out! Just a little too tired to do so at the time of posting!


End file.
